


Razorblades

by astreamofstars



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Cancer, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astreamofstars/pseuds/astreamofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ways and means of support</p>
            </blockquote>





	Razorblades

**Author's Note:**

> written for the bsg_epics Jan 2013 Ship War

Today's the day Laura wakes up and decides she can’t pretend her hair isn’t falling out anymore. None of the new styles she’s been trying out work to cover how thin it's become, and her hairbrush is so full of strands that she has to spend five minutes picking them all out over the trash, her throat burning with pent up tears. Kara doesn't say anything about it over breakfast, but there's concern in her eyes as she sits across the table. 

In her lunchbreak at work, she surfs the net, making an appointment for two days time to go get a wig fitted. It puts her off the meagre lunch she brought with her, and she pushes it away. 

When she gets home that evening, she digs around in the drawer, finding a pair of silver scissors and putting them on the counter in the bathroom, beside the new razor she bought. 

She’s been standing there, staring at her reflection the mirror, unable to pick either implement up again, for fifteen minutes when Kara appears behind her in the doorway, holding a glass of scotch in one hand, and a glass of wine in the other. She looks at Laura, then down at the counter, then comes up behind her and puts the drinks down next to the shining scissors. 

“You want some help with that?” Kara murmurs quietly, her hand on Laura’s waist. It’s thirty seconds before Laura can bring herself to cover Kara’s hand and nod.

A stool is fetched, a towel round her shoulders, and then Kara’s dampening her hair and making the first few snips, bending after each one to drop a kiss against Laura's cheek, ear, neck, jawline. The more Laura wants to squeeze her eyes closed, the more she forces herself to keep them open, watching as the one beauty she’s always let herself be proud of flutters down around her feet. It hurts almost physically. 

When Kara gets to the point of lathering up her hair, readying the razor, Laura reaches over for the wine glass and takes a deep draught. 

Kara's slow and careful, the complete opposite of the way Kara treats herself. After she finishes, wiping away the remains of the foam, she takes a step back from Laura, letting Laura get used to the sight of her bare scalp in the mirror. 

They stay there, in silence, for what seems like forever, Laura slowly reaching up to touch her head, feeling the unnatural smoothness, the contours of her scalp, the way her face looks gaunt and hollow. The tears pricking at her eyes don’t fall, but she can see the glassiness of them in the mirror. 

“You look adorable,” Kara says, quietly, from behind her. “Like ... so beautiful.” When Laura doesn't answer, Kara picks up the scissors and hands them to Laura, nudging her to the side. “Stop cluttering up the stool, you. It’s my turn.” 

That makes Laura drag her eyes away from her reflection, and she looks up at Kara, speaking for the first time since they started this whole thing. “What?”, her forehead wrinkled, her voice scratchy.

Kara’s earnest face gives way to a slight smile. “You look cute. I wanna look cute too. Just be careful, like I was, right?” When Laura doesn’t move, Kara takes the scissors back, reaching up behind herself and sawing through her short ponytail, til her hair hangs in loose, straggly golden stands around her face. “If you don’t want to do it, that's fine, but I’m going to end up looking like a freak if I can't reach the back of my own head.”

And somehow, Laura ends up standing behind Kara, wielding the scissors herself, while Kara winks at her from the mirror. It takes her mind off her own cold scalp while she focuses on snipping away at the silky strands, carefully shaping it around Kara’s head. Then Kara hands her the razor with a new blade attached, and Laura bites her lip as she carefully scrapes away the stubble left, the soft skin of Kara’s scalp slowly being revealed. 

When Laura finally pulls the razor back down on the counter, Kara pulls her onto her lap, and they sit like that for a few minutes, looking at the pair of them in the mirror. 

“You have a nicer shaped head than I do. No fair,” Kara says, and for the first time all day, Laura bursts out laughing. 

The rest of the evening is spent the same way, laughing. Kara’s ears stick out a little, and it makes her pout. Laura can't get used to looking so pale, now her fall of auburn locks is gone. When they go to bed, Kara can’t stop kissing the top of Laura’s head, and it turns out to be a sweet spot for Laura, making her giggle and sigh. 

And when they ventures out together the following morning to the market, hand in hand, Laura wearing a deep red headscarf around her brow, Kara with the world's dumbest beanie hat pulled down over her ears, it doesn’t matter if they get the occasional funny look. Laura just looks over at Kara, and Kara grins right back, squeezing her hand.


End file.
